Like A Ghost
by NatureFilms
Summary: TRISTAN DUFFY/JAMES MARCH SMUT *** Don't judge me. I ship March and Tristan and there's only been two episodes aired. Sorry for this i'm trash


James March slid the black cane down Tristan's bare chest, looping it through one of the belt loops on Tristan's black skinny jeans.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Tristan shouted, trying to back away, but hitting the front desk. March pulled him back in with the cane and ran it down the man again, stopping right before landing across the very obvious bulge in his pants.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," March teased in his accent, smirking.

"I DON'T!" Tristan protested angrily.

March chuckled and clicked his tongue, bending down to whisper, and sending chills up Tristan's spine.

"Your body tells me differently."

Tristan slapped the cane away.

"What the hell, man? I said stop!"

Mr. March had Tristan backed into the corner. "You don't have to worry," Mr. March said softly, his voice low. "This is my hotel, after all."

Tristan's eyes narrowed. "So?"

Mr. March smirked. "So I know where the bedrooms are."

Tristan looked down for a moment in thought, and then looked back up into March's black eyes.

"Show me."

***  
Tristan fumbled for the elevator button as he tangled his other hand through Mr. March's slicked hair.

"Which…floor…" he gasped between sloppy kisses, and March grinned, hitting the button for floor six. Tristan's jacket was quickly shed to the floor, and he reached for March's suspenders, before getting his hand slapped away hard.

"Patience," March said, pulling away, and looking him straight in the eyes. Tristan gulped. The elevator dinged as they arrived at floor six, and they both stepped out. Tristan found it hard to keep his hands to himself as the two strode down the long hallway. Loud moans from both a man and a woman could be heard coming from one of the doors they passed.

 _I guess someone else had the same idea,_ Tristan thought.

The hallway seemed endless, but finally March stopped at room 64. He motioned, and Tristan opened the door. He walked over to the bed and sat down on it, spreading his legs open.

"Come here," Tristan said, spreading his legs wider.

March laid his cane on the bedside table and climbed on top of Tristan, leaning over him. He took his face in his hand, and turned it to the side to whisper in his ear, "You don't get to tell me what to do."

He placed a small kiss on the spot underneath Tristan's ear, making him inhale a sharp breath.

"That's my job."

He bit on the same spot, and Tristan knew he was going to have a red mark tomorrow. March finally took off his jacket too, tossing it on the floor. Tristan's bulge grew harder as his shaking fingers undid the buttons of Mr. March's white shirt.

"Leave the suspenders on," Tristan choked out, his eyes raking down March's bare chest.

Suddenly, March flipped Tristan over on the bed, rubbing his crotch teasingly on his ass.

"What did I just say?" he growled, and Tristan moaned quietly at the feeling of March rubbing on him.

"Not to tell you what to do."

March kissed down Tristan's spine and smiled.

"That's right," he said. "But I'll leave the suspenders on because you're too handsome to say no to."

Tristan undid the zipper on his pants, and then the button on his underwear, and March watched from above him. He had been naked with plenty of girls (and some guys), but he had never felt this exposed in his life. March helped him take his pants and underwear off and then did the same to himself. He climbed into the bed with Tristan and snaked his arms around his waist.

"Are you ready?" he asked and Tristan nodded, feeling his eyes water as March slowly entered him. Tristan moaned softly as the pain quickly turned into pleasure, and March's smile turned upward into a grin, loving the sight of the man's flushed face.

He started a steady rhythm, slowly building up speed, feeling the pleasure of being inside Tristan Duffy course through his lower half.

Tristan's moans sliced through the air, and he was sure the entirety of Hotel Cortez could hear him. The old bed frame squeaked with each thrust from March.

"Please…" Tristan begged, surprised at the sound of his voice. He had never begged like this before.

"Faster…I'm so close."

March let out a low groan as he sped up his pace, watching as Tristan's mouth fell open and both of their bodies shook together. Panting, March rolled off of Tristan and to the other side of the bed.

"I told you that you like it," he said, and Tristan laughed giddily, closing his eyes for a moment, tired but happy. He opened them after a while and turned to kiss March, but jolted upright.

March was gone, and as Tristan surveyed the room he couldn't find a trace of him. No cane, no hat, nothing.

He had completely vanished. Like a ghost.


End file.
